The Unofficial & Unheard Soundtrack
by whispered touches
Summary: A collection of song-inspired one-shots - various moments in the lives of everyone from Harry to Draco. Canon pairings, mostly H/G and R/H.
1. Someday

**Alright, here's a collection of all the songs on my iPod (yes, I know I have bad taste in music. Screw you), and I made a short one-shot for each of them using either the title or the lyrics. Note: TITLE or LYRICS. I tried this once before, and it got hardly any views. So . . . yeah.**

**Oh, and for those of you that are my "fans" for some reason (did you suffer brain damage? I suck at writing), I would really appreciate it if you could take a look at a fic I posted last week, _Before Your Eyes. _I have a bunch of friends at school that I had read it, and they _loved _it -- and they didn't even like HP (CURSE THEM!)! I've only gotten one review for it so far, from FriendOfMolly (thank you!) and it's driving me insane. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I own none of these wonderful songs or these wonderful characters, they belong to their wonderful writers and wonderful artists. I TAKE NO CREDIT!**

**Without futher ado . . .**

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***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Someday ~ ****Nickelback ~***

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Where did he go wrong?

It could have been this or that, here or there. But did it really matter?

Yes.

Yes, it did, because he would eventually have to make right his mistakes at some point, and to do that, he had to know what they were.

Did it start with the first lie?

_"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"_

_"No. It doesn't make any difference."_

No.

No, it didn't. He was protecting her, that was all. She was already worried enough, no need to make it worse. No need to tell her that she would be underestimated and taunted because of her blood. But he still regretted it.

Did it start with the search, rummaging through the mail?

_"That boy found it! You and that boy have been sneaking into my room!"_

No.

No, it didn't. It wasn't yet destroying him like it would. It wasn't _his _fault her sister was jealous, after all. But he still regretted it.

Did it start on the train, when he could have turned sneering into friendly bickering?

_"Slytherin?"_

. . . Maybe.

Maybe, but probably not. There was no guarantee that it would work out. There was no guarantee they would _want _it to work out. But he still regretted it.

Did it start at the Sorting, with the old patched and frayed hat atop his head?

_"You could be great in Gryffindor, you know. Fame, loyal friends."_

_N-no. Send me to -- to Slytherin._

_"Fine. If you say so . . . SLYTHERIN!"_

. . . Maybe.

Maybe. Most likely. They wouldn't hex him if they were house-mates -- heck, make that dorm-mates. He would be hanging around the right people, he would be closer to her. But again, there was that underlying possibility that it was just a dream that could never come true. But he still regretted it.

Did it start with the companions he chose?

_". . . Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber!"_

No.

No, not entirely. It could have been worse, anyway. At least they were somewhat loyal to each other. They backed him up when the others tried to curse him, if only a little. But he still regretted it.

Did it start when he insulted her?

_"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"_

Yes.

Yes, it did. It lost him the only friend he ever had, all through just one word. It was one of the worst things he ever did, and he acknowledged it. And he regretted it.

Did it worsen when he relayed the prophecy to Voldemort?

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . ."_

Yes.

Yes, it was the worse decision he ever made. It ruined his life completely, destroyed the only comfort he had that was her existence, the knowledge that she, at least, was happy. And he regretted it.

But as Severus Tobias Snape felt snake venom slowing his heart rate, he saw her eyes staring at his own out of that face with pity, the way she used to. In fact, it was the last thing he ever saw in his life -- in his death, though, it was the first thing he saw.

He could fix things now.

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**Yay! Finally! I've been trying to get this up for a while, but I've been busy . . . or lazy. Take your pick. R&R please, but you don't _have _to . . . it'd be nice, though.**

**- XAPY-TZINY-IIOEINTON-NOAT =D**


	2. Fences

**Okey dokey! Here's another one! WARNING: May or may not be AU, but was never specified.  
Diclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. But you knew that . . . right?**

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***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Fences ~ ****Paramore ~***

* * *

She expected to see happiness, not pain.

The sun was just rising, and she was so excited to spread the news that she didn't care if they were awake or not, even if she had to drag them out of their beds and funnel breakfast down their throats and splash coffee in their faces just to get them coherent.

In a way, they _were _nearly asleep.

It's odd how much life can change in only a matter of minutes -- seconds, even. She learned that the hard way, from personal experience. More than once, and more than once is twice, and twice is too many times already.

The _very _hard way.

The first thing she saw after the suffocating darkness passed chilled her blood: the Dark Mark. But it couldn't have happened yet; the windows rattled with bursts of multicolored light, and varied shouts were heard through the walls. They could have been backups, avenging them. They _could've _been, and she hoped it wasn't.

Drawing her wand, she peered through where the kicked-down door usually stood and was met with a terrifying sight.

There were six standing figures, as near as she could tell, and there was a heap piled in one corner -- a dead body. She saw no flash of brightness there, though, and she willed herself to focus on the upright fighters' faces. She felt her mouth curl into an involountary sneer as she recognized the majority as Death Eaters. There was Bellatrix Lestrange, cackling with mirth as she tossed jets of color out of her wand, alongside her husband, Rodolphus; there was Rodolphus's brother, Rabastan; finally, there was the twisted, cruel face of Antonin Dolohov, who she hated with a passion on account of the devastating way he murdered.

Things only got worse from there, and yet she couldn't help but feel slightly relieved. Fabian and Gideon were dueling their fiercest, sweat beating their foreheads under their flaming red hairline. Fabian had a nasty-looking green gash across his face, and Gideon was bleeding freely from a recent cut deep in his forearm; his shirt sleeve was turning red. There were plenty of other injuries in various places as well. Though they moved with energy, she could see their bright-blue eyes aching with tiredness; they had to have been battling all night. Soon enough, the back of her mind knew, they would slip up and . . .

The Death Eaters must have been confident they would have no resistence, because there was no reason for them to send up the Dark Mark so early. Of course they wouldn't give in, just like that. She knew them well enough that if they were going, they were going to go down fighting.

It was just her luck that she would get spotted, by Dolohov no less. "Get out of here! Go!" he shouted to his cohorts. "I can take them!"

And before she was able to do anything, Dolohov snarled, "Punctio!" and made a wild slashing motion with his wand over Fabian and Gideon. There was a flash of violet light, in which the two men crumpled to the ground in motionless scarlet heaps and Dolohov vanished.

Without even thinking, she knelt down beside them with tears in her eyes.

"F-Fabian? G-G-Gideon? You're going to b-be okay, right?"

Gideon tried to smile, and winced; he was breathing heavily, and his chest was soaked with blood, a vicious slash across it.

"Don't think so," he croaked. "There's nothing you can do."

"I can g-get you to St. Mungo's. . . . Y-You'll be al-alright. . . . Y-You're not d-d-dying. . . . " she insisted, more to herself than to anyone else. But why didn't they stop playing? This was low, even for them. But there was the Dark Mark, and Death Eaters . . .

Fabian grimaced painfully. "Yes we are. St. Mungo's won't help. Say good-bye to everyone for us. Tell Arthur to take care of our baby sister and our nephews. Or niece?"

They both looked at her questioningly. There was a moment of silence aside from their ragged breaths.

"Twin boys," whispered Molly Weasley, horrified this was how it was going down.

The joy in her brothers' eyes was unmasked even by the pain.

"You'd better name them after us, Molls," Fabian told her, as sternly as he could manage.

"Yeah," agreed Gideon. He looked worse than his twin: His face was white as a sheet, and blood was pouring down over his sides, like some sort of crude red waterfall.

"B-But I won't h-have t-to," she protested.

"Make sure they're troublemakers, just like their uncles," said Fabian.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, staring at her older brothers as their breathing became shallower and their heart rates slower. "Middle names," she allowed.

It was the last thing they heard.

She saw the light leave their eyes, reflecting a beautiful, blazing, gold, orange, and red sunrise they would never see again.

* * *

**Yeah . . . depressing, and probably not how it went down, but w/e. I thought it would be a nice twist. Oh, and just FYI, I'll try to get up at least one chapter a day, but it might be hard, as I have limited computer access. But don't worry, I have a whole bunch written as I type, just waiting to be published during my FOUR DAY WEEKEND! PWNAGE! R&R, if you please!**

**~ XAPY-TZINY-IIOEINTON-NOAT ~ =D**


	3. Her Diamonds

**Hello again! Well, I have a great detail added to my FOUR DAY WEEKEND: I'm sick. Isn't that just (insert bad word here)ing _fantastic?!?!?! _My throat hurts like (insert other bad word here) and I can barely talk, cough, or laugh without pain. Enough of my ranting!**

**Well, this one is a little -- er, a lot shorter than most will be (Well, I'm not really sure, as I still only have a couple written), but I still think it turned out well. Better than I thought it would be, at least. Enjoy!**

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***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Her Diamonds ~ Rob Thomas ~***

**

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**

Harry woke with a start, bolt straight up in bed. He looked around frantically, expecting to see snake-like red eyes and the green rush of death speeding toward him -- but he relaxed back onto his elbows. There was nothing.

Nothing, that is, except one person.

Ginny was sitting in an armchair facing the window, yet slightly turned toward his open-curtained four-poster. Harry could see the sky just beginning to brighten in the darkness through the glass.

She started slightly when she heard him sit up, but said nothing, eyes on the horizon. There was a nasty-looking -- but healing -- cut on her cheek, and another above the eye opposite, but it wasn't life-threatening, and that was good enough for Harry.

Harry wanted to shift his position into one more comfortable, or to simply roll over and go back to sleep, but Ginny's gaze out the window was so intense that he was captured by it, too, and was immobilized by the sunrise alongside her.

The sky was painted gold and reddish-pink before Harry knew it, and no sooner had he thought, _That was quick,_ than Ginny spoke at last.

"It doesn't feel like we won."

Harry nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Yeah," he said quietly and soothingly, almost in a whisper. "I know what you mean."

Ginny bowed her head. "I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss all of them." Her voice broke.

Harry pushed himself off his elbows, shoving his glasses on. "We all are, Gin. It's going to be tough."

The words had barely left his mouth when Ginny's eyes were shining with tears. He gathered her up in his arms once more, rubbing gentle circle into her back. Her whole body wracked with sobs, pouring her heart out onto Harry's shoulder.

"I can't take this anymore," he heard Ginny say, the words muffled and strangled.

"We'll get through it," Harry told her reasurringly. "Together." Even as he said this, he couldn't stop one or two of his own tears from slipping down. He was grateful she couldn't see.

The two of them had spent many mornings like this, seeking comfort from each other. They always said the same things, did the same things. And the same miracle always took place.

One of Ginny's stray tears dripped off her chin and onto the fourth finger of her left hand. It glinted strangely in the sunrise, sparkling strangely.

Harry liked it there.

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**See, way shorter than usual, but sweet. Based on the lyrics, title, and vid, (which is really weird, but makes sense), and my NEW FAV SONG!! Yay!! okay, be ready for the next one!! R&R please!!**

**~ XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
=D**


	4. If Today Was Your Last Day

**Yo, dawgz! Wuzzup? Okay, talking normally now, here's another one, meant to be both funny and sad. No slash, but if you _want _to imagine it, then . . . whatever floats your boat, right? Alrighty, here we go!**

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***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ If Today Was Your Last Day ~ Nickelback ~***

**

* * *

**

"I miss him."

Remus sighed tiredly. "We both do, Sirius."

Sirius kept right on gazing out the window. It was a clear blue day, and he could just see him and his messy black hair zooming around, scooping up and releasing the Snitch only to capture it again. She was trying to scowl from some spectator's point on the ground, but couldn't help smiling. He was showing off, just for her.

Sirius smiled. "Remember all those sayings he used to have?"

Remus chuckled. "How can I not? He had one for every day of the year. And then some."

"And he reserved special ones for Lily."

A pause. "'True love conquers all'," they said together quietly.

Sirius turned and sat down in his favorite armchair. The two were silent for a while.

"I miss him," said Sirius again.

"Didn't we just go over this?"

"Yeah . . . but I do."

"I know, Sirius," said Remus. "You've been saying that for fourteen years."

Sirius, whose head had been bowed, snapped his silver eyes up to meet Remus's blue-amber ones. There was so much raw emotion in them that it blocked out the dead, haunted, walled look Azkaban gave them.

"Fourteen years too long," he said hoarsely. Another pause. "He was my brother."

Remus nodded. "Mine, too."

They were quiet once more, until Sirius sat back, a small, reminiscent grin on his face. "What did he tell us every full moon?"

Remus smiled as well. "'It's not illegal if you don't get caught.'" There was a long-missing mischevious air around the two of them for just that one quote. They welcomed it with open arms. "What about every time you ogled Marlene?" He winced inwardly; this was a touchy subject.

Sirius tried not to frown. "'Patience is a virtue.' Like he would know."

Remus snorted. "Like _you _would know, Sirius."

Sirius shrugged. "'That was then. This is now.'"

They chuckled. "When did he use that one?" asked Remus.

"Seventh year, when he was made _Head Boy_." He made a sour face, but his voice held no unkindness.

"I hope Harry makes Head Boy," said Remus thoughtfully.

Sirius fake-scowled. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Suddenly, they both looked down and away, blinking furiously. "The day Harry was born," they whispered, mortified. They said nothing else. It was the longest silence yet, and it was only broken by the occiasional rare sniffle.

Then both Remus and Sirius spoke simultaneously, as though they'd planned it: "'Each day is a gift and not a given right.' October thiry-first, nineteen eighty-one."

They looked at each other silently communicating. _His last motto._

Again they were quiet for a huge chunk of time, grieving for something dead and gone.

"Let's go live," said Sirius forcefully.

"But you're not supposed to --"

"It's called Transfiguration, Moony. Let's see if you're as good as it as Prongs was. Do it for Prongs, Flower and the Prongslet."

Remus hesitated at first, but he couldn't deny anyone anything if they used those nicknames. A second later and Sirius was totally unrecognizable.

"You sure, Padfoot?" he asked tentatively, the name feeling good in his mouth.

"Positive." Sirius stopped him at the door, though, gripping him by the shoulders and looking him up and down. Then he smirked. "I bet you _ten _Galleons that Harry won't get together with Ginny until seventh year."

Remus surveyed him through narrowed eyes. "I'll take that bet."

They stepped out into the square in front of Grimmauld Place.

- - - - -

Remus held the money reverently, as though it were a long-lost treasure. He looked up from his hand and back, incredelous. He read through the paper again, feeling a grin work its way onto his lined face.

_The Last Will and Testament of_

_Sirius Orion Black_

Stuff for Harry . . . Stuff for Harry . . . Stuff for the twins . . . Ah . . .

_I, Sirius Orion Black, leave ten Galleons to Remus John Lupin, for the bet I always knew he would probably win. Take some charity for once, Moony, and tell me if you were right when you join me in sixty years or so._

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**LOLZ! I thought it would be funny, kind of Marauder-ly, and still have them missing James a bunches. Notice they never mentioned his name, but it hurts too much. And they didn't ever mention Peter, either. Kay, R&R, peeze!!**

**~ XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
=D**


	5. 21 Guns

**Okay, here's another, and the next one should be up . . . soonish. This is the last one I have done beforehand, and its not even finished. But I'm close, so there you go. And the next one (that shall remain nameless until the Ministry sees fit to disclose it (;D)) is really obvious, easy, and overdone, but it's on my iPod, so there you go. Enjoy!!!**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ 21 Guns ~ Green Day ~***

**

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**

Neville didn't know what to think.

There was lots of lights, lots of sound, and yet he had no idea what was to be gained from lives being taken. He could see bodies dropping like a rock around every corner, limp and useless as a ragdoll, hearts no longer pumping, lungs no longer drawing oxygen. They could be Death Eaters, they could be Order members, they could be in Dumbledore's Army, they could be everyday citizens, they could be students -- they could be Harry, Ron, or Hermione for all Neville knew, but he tried to shoot down that possibility with a Stunner at a figure that had shot something exuberant green at him; it hit the wall two inches away from his face.

And just as he dived sideways to avoid another Killing Curse from the large, bulky form of Thorfinn Rowle and sent a return Reductor Curse just seconds later, Neville realized: None of the people that had gathered here were fighting for fear of death, trying to escape. They were fighting for hope of a better future, expelling the darkness that had consumed them.

- - - - -

"Harry Potter is dead."

Neville all but went deaf after this sentence. He refused to believe it until the evidence was pushed right under his once-broken nose, his swollen eye and his determined face. He refused to accept it, refused to see the one thing that would extinguish the flame of hope burning inside them all. It couldn't be true.

But it was.

Neville could see his body in Hagrid's arms colossal arms. He could see his messy hair, his glasses over his closed eyes, eyes that were blank, unseeing, the fierce ever-present _something _that represented a never-giving-up attitude finally absent.

Harry, so strong, so willful, so invincible, their leader, their beacon of light in the black storm . . . gone.

And before he knew what had happened, his hair singed, Neville carried out the great hero's last request of him and sliced the great snake's head off as easily as if it were made of butter, not scales, muscle and veins. He dueled with whoever took the dangerous route of sparring with him, rage and grief propelling him far more than adrenaline, moving without a conscious thought. He had to fight for Harry, because that's what Harry wanted.

No one knew exactly what had happened.

One moment, they were ready to drop their wands and kiss the very ground Voldemort walked on -- maybe even aim for a higher spot, if that was what he wanted -- thinking that there was no possible way any one of them or their families were to make it out of the castle alive, that he would finally win after all the terror he'd put them through.

The next, Harry had appeared out of nowhere, upright and very much alive, and hope's fire had returned, but it still flickered dimly as the two wizards prowled each other in a circle, talking so many things that Neville didn't understand, and Voldemort's pearly white figure collapsed at Harry's feet, and instead many of them tossed their wands up into the air in celebration, crowding around him the reason it was over at last.

Something inside Harry _had _died, Neville understood eventually, and now Voldemort's carefully constructed rein was destroyed and in ruins.

* * *

**Well, that one turned out better than I thought it would at first, and it's inspired much more by the lyrics than probably a lot of the others. I know, a lot of run-on sentences, but they're kind of fun if you know how to do 'em right. And this is kind of a tribute to Neville, the Almost-Boy-Who-Lived, the Almost-Chosen-One, and he so totally pwns!! So, yeah, R&R, please! I actually go, "Yes! A review!" every time I see one. It just brightens up my day! And trust me, most days have at least a touch of badness in them in one of my many classes or another. PeAcE!!**

**~ XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
=D**


	6. You Belong With Me

**Sorry this one took longer than it should've to get up! I had it finished once, but then it went and deleted itself for whatever reason, and I've been out all day today and I'm dead tired. Like I said in the previous chapter, this one is so overdone it's sickening, but hopefully this will be different than usual. Hopefully.**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ You Belong With Me ~ Taylor Swift ~***

**

* * *

**

Hermione couldn't help a lot of things.

She couldn't help studying in every last second of her free time, or always being the first one to raise their hand whenever a teacher asked a question. She couldn't help memorizing every detail in her textbooks, or being the smartest witch in the year.

She also couldn't help loving Ron.

She couldn't help brightening up when he walked into the room, even if they were fighting. She couldn't help smiling when he did just that right at her, couldn't help restraining herself from leaping on him and kissing him full on the mouth every time he threw her a lazy grin.

She couldn't help doubting that he loved her back, either.

She was so imperfect: her hair was always wild and untamable, her nose was slightly off-center, and she had no perfect dress sense. She had no inkling of why anyone in the entire world would ever, ever like somebody like her.

But because Hermione couldn't help loving Ron, she couldn't help hating the blond-haired, blue-eyed bimbo that took him away from her.

Lavender Brown was everything Hermione Granger wasn't: Her hair always in some sort of an elaborate 'do, perfect skin, a genuine, naturally even-toothed smile. Every guy in Hogwarts (minus the Slytherins) would consider themselves lucky to go out with Lavender if even for a week. And so when Hermione saw Lavender kissing her best want-to-be-more-than friend, she couldn't help the tears spilling from her eyes, couldn't help hating Ron with every fiber of her being for betraying her like this.

She was always there for him. He took her for granted. She assisted him in every way she could. He hardly ever uttered a, "Thank you." She still couldn't help loving him.

Hermione knew Ron didn't love Lavender, but she could only hope that Ron loved her.

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**Well, I know that sucked $$, but I really can't think of anything better. My creative juices are running low today. All the same, I hope you enjoyed it!! R&Ring would be wonderful!!**

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
=D**


	7. We'll Never Know

**OMG!! I am soooooo sorry that this took so long to get up. I was sick all weekend (starting thursday) and then on monday and tuesday, and I just couldn't get this one right until last night. But it's here now!**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ We'll Never Know ~ Lifehouse ~***

* * *

They were close, he knew. He'd changed, that much was sure, too. But was it enough?

He'd have to find out the hard way.

There was a little baby boy toddling around his parents' legs. He had that goofy, three-toothed smile on his chubby face; his parents beamed with pride.

He stuffed the photo that he took everywhere back in his pocket. It may have been all that was left of them, but at least their memory would always live.

_"Move on. Don't forget, don't ever forget, but keep living life."_

That advice had kept him sane all these months, if only barely. His state of emotional turmoil had been a rollercoaster, and during the plummets he had clung to those words as he would a rope in tug-of-war.

He took a deep breath and leaned against the cold wall. Why was this so hard?

Because you love her, said a voice in his brain.

Shut up, the rest of his mind suggested to it.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply again, he extracted himself from his hiding place, looked left and right, and set off.

One foot in front of the other, he told his brain and legs.

But why is this so hard?

Because you love her.

He slowed his brisk pace. Love. It seemed and odd concept to him, somehow, yet at the same time it had been in his heart since the beginning of forever.

Would this be considered the next step, or the first step?

His brain took its time answering, so he seized the opportunity to enjoy the scenery surrounding him as he always did.

The next step, said his brain finally.

For whatever reason, this seemed to satisfy him -- but still, he did not go, but continued walking aimlessly around, being sure to take the longest route possible.

He checked his watch. It was now or never. Hands deep in his pockets, he set a new, more worn course, acknowledging known passers-by with a nod or a grin or a "Hey." It gave him an odd sense of security to know he wasn't alone in this situation, he thought as he passed a couple of guys who looked mightily like Firewhiskey was needed as a remedy for heartbreak (He made a mental note to inform _someone _of this). Would the same happen to him?

At the door, he stopped for a brief moment. Somehow, he knew that when he came out of here, his life would be changed forever. It _was _the seventh year, after all.

He knew where she was without a doubt in his mind -- a rare occurance in and of itself, when pertaining to matters such as these. Instead of marching straight up to her, however, he dawdled some more; it soothed him, the silence except for his breathing, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of paper or whisper, like wind whistling through a canyon. He paused, once, for a piece of good luck chocolate; he crammed the whole thing in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed quickly before anyone (namely an ugly old lady) could see -- not that 99.99% of the inhabitants would care.

The sugar gave him renewed strength (Was it tainted?), almost like a drug, or, perhaps, with any luck, another sensation he would soon be feeling.

Or not.

There she was. Scribbling furiously, there were several things she could have been doing: Homework was the most obvious, but the look on her face -- a mixtureof pure concentration and . . . something else (Lift your eyes, woman, and let me see to the depths within! pleaded the over-dramatic part of his brain) -- betrayed that fact completely. He knew her too well. Possibility #2: A letter to home. But there was something different there, too. She _always _worked on letters in the common room, _always_. Fine, then, the last and least likely hypothesis: A . . . A note to him? Though, this could be entirely based on his hopes; If that was indeed the case, though, this was good -- _very _good -- news. But her hair hid her face far too well to find any sign of compassion or any such emotion (THE EYES! THE EYES!).

He'd have to take a chance, then.

He took a seat at her table. "Hey," he said quietly.

She looked up and smiled. "Hey yourself," she returned, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What's up?"

He shrugged. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

She pretended to huff. "_Well_. I had no idea that I was your last resort, so _excuse me_."

He grinned past his nervousness. "You're more than excused, I would think." She turned faintly pink: a good sign. "What'cha up to?"

She looked down at her whatever-it-was. "Oh. Nothing much," she said, far too quickly to be believable (Along with the fact that her blush deepened).

He snorted. "You're a really, really bad liar sometimes. No offense."

"None taken."

Silence.

"Listen, there's something I --" they both started at the same time. They chuckled.

"You first," she requested.

"A-alright." He cleared his throat akwardly. "Um . . . Remember that one time . . . in third year?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

"The one after Quidditch Finals."

She groaned. "How can I _not_? You declared your love for me in front of the entire Gryffindor House." She was now scarlet, yet he couldn't figure out why.

He hesitated. Was this the way to go about this? He had a feeling this was completely mixing up, turning upside-down and all-out Transfiguring the procedure he was supposed to follow.

Whoa, whoa. Wait, said his brain. _Procedure?_

No. That was wrong. Since when had he done anything according to the rules? Since when had he cared what other people thought about him? Since when did he plan (Quidditch, when he met her, and the fourth year pick-up line phase, in order)?

"I wasn't lying," he declared. His face and mind were set, and there wasn't an ounce of doubt in his voice.

Her brilliant eyes studied his face, searching for answers; she found some only behind his glasses.

"What." It was more of a statement.

"I love you," he said. "I think I always have. I just . . . wasn't positive. I love you, Lily Evans."

She was speechless for a moment -- but only a moment. Slowly, very slowly, she began to beam. "Really?" At his nod, she looked away momentarily, but then captured his gaze with hers. "I -- I think . . . I think I love you, too."

"Are you kidding? 'Cause if you're kidding . . ." He couldn't bring himself to be intimidating. Not when so many hopes and dreams were riding on her reply.

"No, I'm not." She seemed hardly aware of the words that were rolling forth from her tongue. "I'm really in love with you, James Potter."

He grinned ear-to-ear and leaned forward a little, but (What's with all the 'but's? asked his brain irritably) --

"I've just got one question, though."

He nodded for her to go on.

"Why did you tell me _now_?"

He heaved a large sigh. "Well, after -- after my parents, you know . . . I realized how short life really is. One second you're laughing and talking, and the next you're dead on the floor. It . . . it can just be taken away so fast. AndI _know _I want to be an Auror, and it's dangerous. If I end up dying --"

"Don't say that --"

"-- then I want you to know how I feel. And like they say, 'There's no time like the present.'"

She smiled again. "Well, now that _that's _taken care of . . ." She leaned over the table.

"I like the way you think."

"Mm. I like the way I think, too," she all but breathed. And she kissed him.

An explosion took place in his head, rattling the many arguemental states of mind; this was the best feeling in the world . . . in the galaxy . . . make that universe . . .

She pulled away suddenly and wiped something off the corner of his mouth with her finger. "Chocolate?"

James grinned. "It's a funny story . . ."

Lily nodded, still smiling. "Let's hear it, then. I could get used to this."

* * *

**There! FINALLY! You have _no _idea how hard that was to write. And I know James was sort of OOC, but he changed entirely for Lily. I liked the ending, personally. I always like my endings (Don't ask me why). It's so Lily-and-James-like! R&Ring makes my day!! Virtual cookie if you do!!**

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
Long _name, _long story.**


	8. Bubbly

**Finally, right?**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Bubbly ~ Colbie Calliat ~***

* * *

"Oi, you! Put that back or it's your head!"

Angelina couldn't help but smile. This was more the George she remembered than the one from a year and a half ago. In fact, this was probably the best she'd seen him since then: He was running Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes again, he was laughing at others' expense again, and he was always cracking jokes (usually about Ron or Percy). But he'd changed, too. His eyes still had the ever-present twinkle of humor in them, dulled slightly with the abscence of his twin. His grin would never be the exact same one as before, and even his hair seemed less vibrant when there wasn't an identical mop of orange to compare it to.

It didn't matter, though. He was George, he was eating, he was breathing, and he was alive.

Angelina loved working at Weasleys'. Even when Hogwarts was in session, kids under the age of eleven bounded in daily, dragging their parents by the arms, beaming as they stared around at the brightly colored shelves overflowing with whatever crazy merchandise the proprietor decided to put on sale. So many of the things the two owners had created that had been converted into things for Defense Against the Dark Arts were now being put to their original use: The Shield Hats, Gloves, and Cloaks were a kick during for-fun duels; Decoy Detonators were perfect when your accidentally said the wrong thing to your girlfriend (Angelina had grown impervious to these); Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder could even be used by parents to keep their kids in bed at night - as long as they weren't afraid of the dark.

There were other, newer products, too: Some more effects for Skiving Snackboxes had been created, including Asthmatic Ambrosia and Coughing Custards; The punching telescopes that had gotten Hermione had been perfected; There was festive enchanted mistletoe, bewitched to follow and annoy the first couple that gets caught under it; There was even cookie dough that made cookies with chocolate chips that came to life as soon as soon as one took a bite, crawling all over the victim's face like ants and coating it in chocolate. It was brilliant, in Angelina's - and many others' - opinion, and George was always finding new inspiration.

"Hey," he said as he passed her with a few Galleons in his fist. "How are things?"

"Good," replied Angelina, absent-mindedly taking payment from a customer for a Patented Daydream Charm.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley!" the little girl piped, grinning. "Mrs. Weasley."

George and Angelina blushed, then protested at the same time, "We're not married," and flushed deeper.

The girl looked confused. "Well, what's that?" she asked, pointing to a gleam on Angelina's hand.

Their resemblances to a fire truck vanished instantly. "Nothing," muttered Angelina, lowering her eyes and twisting the silver band off of her finger, tilting it side to side.

The girl shrugged. "Okay. Thanks anyway." And as though nothing had happened, she bounced back to a man who had to be her father.

George sighed heavily. "Go on. Go take a break."

"George --"

"Angelina."

They locked eyes for a moment, and a spark of understanding passed between them. With a half a second peck on the cheek, Angelina swept past him, only pausing at the doorway that led to the back room to look back at him.

Upon entering the break room, Angelina exhaled and moved to sit down on a stool. She looked at the ring she had taken off, reading the inscription on the inside:

_GW + AJ + FW: Three of a kind._

It still hurt to think about Fred. They felt the gap he left behind every day when George wasn't seen with a clone beside him every step of the way.

And yet, Angelina wasn't completely lost. She had always loved George, she knew it: Fred had been crucial and in their get-together. Fred had always given something to someone somewhere… and he was gone.

* * *

**  
Yes, I know. Horrible. Oh well, it's this or nothing. R&R, I guess...**


	9. Second Chance

**Oh my gosh, I'm soooooo so so so sooooo sorry this took so long. I really have been busy with school lately, and my sister is finally getting started on all her college crap. I haven't even touched a computer for nearly five days, and it's driving me ****ing insane! But here it is now, so here you guys go!**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Second Chance ~ Shinedown ~***

* * *

"You've been so brave."

He said nothing. He couldn't, not now, and wouldn't they have eternity to make up for seventeen years' lost time soon enough?

"You are nearly there," said James from somewhere behind him. "Very close. We are… so proud of you."

And indeed he sounded it. James was proud of his son – but his son wasn't sure which feat it was that had him beaming so.

"Harry…" said another voice quietly. The one called turned around to face his godfather. "This is suicidal, you know. There's no going back."

He found his voice, but he could not say why it came to him in this moment. "I know," he mumbled, yet the silence in the air seemed to amplify his words. "But I have to. There's no other way."

Sirius nodded as though he'd expected nothing else, and in fact he said so. Harry didn't reply, for something else had recaptured his attention.

"I wish you didn't have to do this." Lily's pleads were desperate. It looked to them all as though she were on the brink of tears.

If he could even have attempted to force a smile on his face, he would've, even if it was twisted and bitter. "I do, too. But at the same time…" _No. There's time for that later. _He took a deep breath. "Welcome to my life. This is how it's always been, and how it was meant to be. I hoped you would have realized that this was… how I live."

Nobody else spoke. Remus's eyes connected briefly with his, and some sort of understanding passed between them, just without words.

Harry looked around at them. "Let's go," he muttered. Something flickered in each pair of irises: fear. "Stay close to me."

And they did. He set off past the dementors, which would normally have sent the last living moments of two of the people – his _parents _– that were now walking beside him drilling into his ears, but not this time. Instead the journey through the old trees that grew closely together, branches and roots tangled, twisted, and gnarled. All was eerily still and silent. Each step carried him deeper and deeper into the forest, toward his demise, away from one family and toward another – _right – _hello again, Fred – _left – _good-bye, Neville – _right – _hello, Professor Dumbledore – _left – _good-bye, Ron – _right – _hi, Sirius and Remus – _left – _good-bye, Hermione – _right – _hello, Mum and Dad – _left – _good-bye, Ginny.

The last one hurt most of all, but still he pushed on, the Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly around him in the darkness, and beside him walked his family, his _real _family. This chapter was ending, the door was closing, but another one was opening, a new spine being cracked on a new book. It was simply the next step in his existence, be it on earth or in the afterlife; he didn't care. It turned out that all he needed to thrive was somebody to love – Ginny, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys – and somebody to return it – his parents.

It seemed that he was getting a second chance after all…

… Just not the one his heart desired.

**I know, depressing, sad: just the way I like it. Well, sort of, but you know what I mean. I mean, I mean that I mean that you know what I mean, you know what I mean? LOL, I love confusing people. It's just too easy. The next one is in steady progress and will definitely be up by Sunday; who knows when my sister stops being a laptop hog? **

**Reviews would be lovely, but just reading is fantastic.**

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
Long **_**name, **_**long ****story****.**


	10. If It Kills Me

**OMG, I'm such a good person right now (which is a big change from the norm, trust me)! This is one of my fav chapters, and did not AT ALL turn out the way I imagined it. Then again, I don't really know how I imagined it in the first place… It was just one of those things that had a mind of its own, you know? Do you? Good or not good, depending on your answer. Okay, without further ado…**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ If It Kills Me ~ Jason Mraz ~*  
**

* * *

_Hermione,_

_First thing's first: If you're reading this, it should be a surprise. I don't intend to actually give it to you, and to be honest (for a change, I'll bet you're thinking), I really don't think I'll ever get a chance to. I might be dead, for all I know. I'm sorry if I am._

_I bet you're wondering where and when I am – of course you are; you're always wondering about __something__ – and so I'll tell you (for a change). I'm at Shell Cottage – the second time. We haven't been here that long, just short of a day. I can't sleep – none of us can – because I know if I do, I'll just hear you again._

_That tore my heart in two, hearing you scream like that. I know it sounds sappy and so not me, but it's true. I mean, I feel horrible… for leaving like that. I don't know what was wrong with me (a lot, you'd say). I'm sorry, Hermione._

_You looked horrible the last I saw – Fleur's keeping you in a spare room for the night, remember? – pale and really shaky, even laying down (which you nearly refused to do), but it's loads better than when we first got here – I'm sure you remember. We sat outside and watched Harry for a while, digging Dobby's makeshift grave by hand. It was depressing._

_I'll be honest again: I was mad at him for a while. It was him who had to go and say You-Know-Who's name and get us captured by Snatchers in the first place – but don't worry, I'm over that. I just wanted to blame someone for your pain._

_But back to Harry._

_I'll admit it: I'm worried scared for him, as much as you are. This whole thing – killing You-Know-Who – looks about as possible as Fred and George passing up a chance to mess with Percy (the git). You and I both know he doubts himself – when doesn't he? Honestly, we both do. It's near impossible if Dumbledore couldn't do it. But if I had to pick one person (alive today) to get rid of You-Know-Who, it would be Harry. I trust him absolutely. Yeah, I know I was supposed to say you then._

_I trust him with Ginny, too. It's just, I don't want her getting her hopes – or heart – up. There's such a big chance that Harry's gonna… die. It'll hurt her too badly. It'll hurt all of us._

_Now, I think you're wondering why I'm telling you all this, revealing my deepest, darkest secrets and fears. Well, I really don't think I'm going to make it out of this war either. I'm sorry. It's just the way things are. There's another reason, though, a better one, I think._

_I'm in love with you._

_I don't know why things played out this way. They just did. I love how you always, always, __always__ have to try to work something out logically for yourself. I love how you never give up when you have your heart set on something. I love how you notice things that no one else does. I love the way your eyes are always sparkling, and your smile, and your laugh, even that strand of hair that always falls in front of your face when you're bent over a book or an assignment, no matter how many times you try to tuck it behind your ear (yeah, I noticed that). I love everything about you._

_You're not perfect. Nobody's perfect. I'm not perfect. Harry's not perfect. Dumbledore wasn't perfect. It bugs me when you keep nagging me and Harry to do our work or study when we have another two weeks to get it done. I hate how you call yourself a Mudblood so proudly (but it's awesome how you wear it like a title). I wish you could open your mind sometimes, and you really need to watch what you say and how you say it every now and then._

_Still, it's all your flaws and quirks __combined __with all the little things that make you the goddess I love._

_I know. I didn't think I could write something like that either._

_I'm sorry I'm probably not there to answer all the questions you must have, so I'll keep going. If you're wondering (which you are, of course), the clock says that it's 2:42 in the morning, so I've officially been writing this letter to you for thirty-seven minutes (I can too do math!). It feels like a lot longer._

_Now, about those questions._

_Why do I love you?_

_I don't know. Forgive me for being so philosophical (yes, Ronnie __does__ know big words), but I think it's just part of Fate's plan in this crazy game it's playing; we're just the pawns. Don't ever think of yourself as someone nobody can love Hermione, because it's the exact opposite. You're beautiful, and a genius, and you have a good sense of humor – most of the time (I hope to Merlin that now is one of those times). You're… amazing. I just wish I was there to be with you right now._

_Next question._

_When did I realize I love you? (I just know you too well.)_

_That's sort of a tough one to answer, and it's complicated. I'll start at the beginning… sort of._

_When I saw you on __Krum's__ arm at the Yule Ball, I thought I was going insane. There you were, looking absolutely stunning, your hair up all fancy-shmancy, your teeth all perfectly straight and just beaming, and I had a two second flash of Krum being me instead. It was so weird, and it kept happening all night long. Then it would go back to Krum, and I wished it was __me__ making you so happy – even though we both know I can't dance (don't even try to defend me from the wedding. I stunk and you know it). __That__ was when I first realized I liked you._

_When I first realized I love you – __that's__ a different story completely, and I didn't find out until recently. Very recently. Just a few hours, to be half-vague._

_Hearing you like that, in so much pain… it was horrible. I know I shouldn't be complaining, I'm not the one who went through… that (look at me, I'm too chicken to even write it). The whole time, though, it was as much torture for Harry and me as it was for you. We were trapped, we were helpless, and we thought it was the end of the road for all of us. I'm sorry about that._

_I don't know what else there is to say, Hermione. This letter is losing steam, and I'm getting tired. It's 3:21 now, and this has really helped. I might actually get some sleep tonight._

_As I wrote before, the only way you'll ever be reading this is if I'm dead, so make me a few promises. It's not your fault, I know it's not. Don't beat yourself up about it. I'm sure I'll be missing you as much as you're missing me. Second, move on. Don't keep yourself waiting, thinking somebody as unattractive and repulsive as me is your only option. Be happy._

_I'm going to give this to Bill to keep. I would give it to Harry, but you already know what I think about that. Bill won't leave Fleur – or Mum – like that. I'll tell him to give it to you if something happens. He'll understand. You know how he is._

_I hope you never get a chance to read this, Hermione. Just know that I love you and always will. I just wanted you to know before it was too late._

_I'll do anything for you, Hermione – even if it kills me._

_Love,_

_Ron  
_

* * *

**Like I said, I just **_**loved **_**writing this one. Don't ask me why. This may or may not be AU; Ron could've really died in AU, and Hermione could be reading it. Or he could've gotten it from Bill and given it to her after the war was over. Take your pick, but this **_**is **_**Hermione reading it, one way or another. I'm going to post this really fast, and then I'm going to get the next chapter ASAP! It's actually finished for once!**

**Reviews are awesome, but whatever floats your boat.**

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
Long **_**name, **_**long ****story****. **


	11. Boulevard of Broken Dreams

**Alright, this one's a lot different than most of the others will be: really dark. Also: GO ME! Two chapters in one day! I PWN!**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Boulevard of Broken Dreams ~ Green Day ~*  
**

* * *

The tinkle of glass mixed with the bleeding of his hand was sickeningly satisfying. The pain and minor destruction of a full-force punch were nothing compared to the storm he felt raging inside.

He looked into the cracked mirror and reveled in the image it repeatedly showed: His hair was standing up in all different directions; his shirt was buttoned wrong; his face was unusually flushed. Seeing himself in such disarray helped him a little, somehow.

But only a little.

He was panting heavily, knuckled white as they gripped the sides of the sink, the only thing keeping the weight of his task from crushing him like an ant.

He could see no light at the end of the tunnel for him, only endless darkness. There would be blood on his hands – there already was. He could feel it seeping into his skin, poisoning his very being, torturing him until he was as twisted and cruel as his own father.

His father. He was disgusted with his father now that he knew this was the kind of work this group did on a regular basis.

He wanted out desperately, but he was in far too deep to climb out. He was way past the point of no return. There was no ducking out, no running away, no activating Ultimate Slytherin Mode (USM). It was at times like these – hard times – that he wished he was wasn't who he was.

He would never admit it to anyone, even himself, but he frequently wished that he was more like Potter. Potter had no parents to drill pureblood-centric obsession into his skull, no bad reputation, no tattoo branded painfully into his forearm… Potter had _real _friends, loyal followers, and was amazing on the Quidditch pitch (a _Firebolt_!). Potter had a substitute family to escape to.

Potter had everything _he _wanted but couldn't have. It wasn't fair.

There were other times still when he wished he had been Sorted into Gryffindor: The fame, the glory, the happiness – but he wasn't brave enough for that. He was weak.

Always, though, almost always, Draco wished most of all that his surname wasn't Malfoy. His name was dirt, his road was already mapped out for him in his blood alone. He had no say in the matter. The onslaught of crimes he knew he would come to commit were going to scar him for eternity.

And yet, there was a way he could redeem himself, if only slightly – Gryffindor style.

For his mother.

* * *

**Two chapters in a day! Yes! I know, short, but I thought it was good enough. I still think Malfoy was a right little git those first few years, and after the fifth year incident, he was put past the point of my ultimate forgiveness. Anyway, I suck at writing him, but whatever. Not sure when the next one will be out, but hopefully soon enough.**

**Reviews rock, but whatevs.**

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
Long **_**name**_**, long ****story****.**


	12. I'm Yours

**Sorry for the wait! I've had this one done for a week or two, but the dang title wouldn't center and I haven't even touched a computer in two days. Sigh... Oh, well, it's here now, so deal with it.**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ I'm Yours ~ Jason Mraz ~***

* * *

"In your face! In your face! WOO!"

"Gah! James, _shut up_!"

"Maybe I don't wanna shut up!"

"ARGH!"

"Okay, okay, break it up," said Teddy loudly, grabbing Lily around the waist just as she leaped for her older brother's throat.

"Yeah, idiots," taunted Victoire, materializing out of nowhere and holding tight to Teddy's arm. "It's only Quidditch."

The many cousins surrounding the scene immediately smirked mischievously, retreating backward a step or two. Three, two, one –

"'ONLY Quidditch'? _'ONLY _Quidditch'? Are you insane?! Quidditch is everything – Quidditch makes the world go round!"

"Whatever you say, Mr. Drama Queen," said Victoire simply, and she marched off in the opposite direction, Teddy not hesitating to hurry along with the force of her dragging.

With the distant laughs of their family far behind them, the two walked in a peaceful silence toward the cluster of trees on the property of the Burrow that varying uncles and aunts had long-since dubbed graciously "the Forest." There was a well-worn path, but one had to know where to find the beginning of the trail to even begin to penetrate the wall of thick trunks.

Teddy and Victoire had reached the famous clearing: A circle of lush, springy grass, a polar opposite from the dirt, dead twigs, and leaves that littered the path. The circle was ringed by gigantic trees, but they were not so much taller than the majority of their fellows that they could be spotted from a large distance away. This clearing was a known Weasley-Potter couple spot, and was – falsely, as Victoire had found – rumored to have been the place where Louis was conceived. It was _legendary_.

Teddy sighed happily, dropping down at the base of his and Victoire's tree; gravity deposited Victoire next to him. He leaned his head back on the surprisingly (but accepted) comfortable bark. He was not tired, but half-closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the woody scents that surrounded him.

Victoire laid her head on Teddy's shoulder, entwining his fingers with hers. "This is nice," she commented quietly.

"Sh," said Teddy abruptly, eyes now fully closed.

"What?" asked Victoire. "What'd I do?"

"Sh," repeated Teddy, making an odd face.

"Why?"

"I hear something," he muttered. "Something… quiet."

"How do you hear some –"

Before she could finish her question, Teddy had seized her moment of confusion as an opportunity to declare a –

"Tickle fight!" he said loudly as his fingers danced over her abdomen like spiders.

"Teddy!" Victoire squealed through her uproarious laughter. "Teddy, st-st-st-stop! I c-can't t-take it!"

"I don't think so," said Teddy tauntingly. "You'll have to pay a price."

"Anything!" gasped Victoire.

Teddy leaned down closer to her; she could feel his breath mingling with hers. Slowly, the tickling stopped, and the stared into each other's eyes, Victoire's a bright silver-blue and Teddy's his usual self-chosen light brown.

Victoire stretched slightly up, while Teddy did the opposite: Their lips met, and for just a moment, their two souls, two being, joined and became one, and for just a moment, the rest of the world, the universe, vanished around them.

The broke apart after their tongues had finished their wrestling match (Victoire's won) and rested on their sides, turned toward each other and their breathing heavy, faces flushed exhilaratingly.

"Wow," said Teddy.

Victoire nodded. "That about sums it up," she managed to get out past her rapid exhales. She sat up, and he did as well. She shoved him playfully. "You are _such _a kid."

He grinned cheekily, then fake-scowled. "How come you _always win_?" he whined.

She smirked. "Because I'm the woman," she answered simply. "I always when, even when I lose, and I'm always right, even when I'm wrong. Get used to it."

Suddenly, Teddy's entire demeanor shifted. He seemed nervous and, different from only a moment before, wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Ted? You okay?" Victoire inquired after a solid minute of absolutely nothing.

Teddy sighed heavily – and somewhat shakily – and got up, tugging on Victoire's hand a signal for her to do the same.

"Victoire…" he started, unsure of how to go on, and those two syllables were all she needed to know something was up. He never spoke in that tone of voice – in fact, she'd never even heard it before – and he'd hardly ever used her full name since they'd starting dating unless he was dead serious.

She knew him too well.

"Yeah?" prompted Victoire, when it became obvious that the conversation wasn't going any further.

He sighed again, turning away from her. "Forget it," he said dejectedly. "It's nothing."

Victoire grasped his shoulder and spun him back around (He nearly fell over in his clumsiness). "It's _not _nothing, Teddy!" she snapped. "Tell me."

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for only a brief moment before slowly opening them again. He seemed to be steeling himself for something. He led her back to the base of their tree (apparently they had rolled away from it during the tickle fight), where he stared up at it. High, high up from the ground, just below the spot where the trunk split into a spider web of branches, were four letters engraved into the bark: _TL + VW. _It had been there for four years.

"Victoire," Teddy started again, stronger than the last time and taking both of her smooth hands in his Auror-trained rough ones. "You know I love you, right?"

Victoire nodded and started to say, "Of course I do," but he cut her off, so it came out as, "Of cour –"

"Good," was the aforementioned hurried interruption, "because it's true. I love you more than anything else in the entire world." He was definitely building something up, and Victoire could tell. "I'd do anything for you. I would go to the ends of the universe just to make you happy, even if it was only for something from Weasleys'."

"Uncle George has a shop at the end of the universe?" asked Victoire, trying not to laugh, because Teddy sounded like he meant business.

"If he did…" Teddy backtracked irritably. He paused before continuing. "You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me."

"'One of'?" she repeated, raising a strawberry blonde eyebrow inquiringly.

He went on as though he had not heard her. "You're _everything _to me – the sun, the moon, the stars – you're the single thing that keeps my world spinning. You're the only reason I get out of bed every morning and go to work, because I don't know what I'd do without you."

Teddy sank to one knee, pulled a velvet box out of his pocket, and snapped it open, all in the space of a second. He was visibly trembling.

"Victoire Weasley, will you marry me?"

Victoire gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She froze like that, staring at his hopeful, lovable face and into his nervous, fearful eyes. Teddy looked like he was deflating more and more the longer the silence stretched.

The trees swayed in the wind, sounding like waves crashing on the ocean and reminding Victoire of her parents' home. Slowly, she lowered her shaking fingers.

"Yes!" she shrieked. "Yes, Teddy, yes!"

Teddy barely had time to slip the ring onto her hand before she tackled him with a kiss, leaving them to stare at the green roof the leaves above them formed.

* * *

**Okay, I liked this one at first, but then it just kinda, I dunno, pooped out. Whatever. Hope **_**you **_**enjoyed it, at least, and if you told me so in a review it would make me the happiest person in the world – and you'll get a virtual cookie!**

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
Long **_**name**_**, long ****story****. **


	13. Fire Burning

**Oh, geez. I had the last chapter ready for a while, but like I said, the stupid centering thing... *sigh* Oh, well, whatever, right? Because I was so obsessed with getting the last chapter up, I forgot to wish all the Americans that are keeping up with this a happy Thanksgiving! In the last two days, I've had four pieces of pumpkin pie COVERED in whipped cream... Mmmm... It's all gone now, though, and it makes me sad. But hey, we're closer to Christmas now! WOO! **

**Okay, enough rambling. I know this is probably AU, but it's not strictly canon either, so I'm off the hook. Here we go!**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Fire Burning ~ Sean Kingston ~***

* * *

"We've got drinks!" announced Lee happily as he entered the common room, knocking into a few fourth years in his lack of balance, who gave promptly gave him a rough shove to right him.

The Gryffindors cheered, the rowdier seventh years loudest of all.

Still slightly wobbly, Lee made his way over to Oliver so that the older boy could properly distribute the various beverages. "Firewhiskey, butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and milk," Lee said, setting a large amount of each drink down as he named them. "All refillable."

Oliver took a quick glance at the empty air on either of Lee's shoulders.

"Where're Gred and Forge?" he asked, fully aware of what he'd just said but still slurring the words a little bit.

Lee apparently seemed to have just realized the absence of his partners-in-crime. "Oh," he said abruptly. He sweeped the common room with his blurred eyes once, then turned back to Oliver. "Dunno."

"Alright then," said Oliver happily, appearing to have no care in the world that his star beaters were nowhere to be found. He thanked Lee and set to filling the plastic cups that had been long-since prepared for this large celebration.

Lee, for whom his surroundings were growing clearer after a sustained period of time without alchohol sliding down his throat, lumbered around the room, mingling, flirting with girls (_especially _Hermione, just to see Ron get agitated), even giving a group of unfortunate second years some Cockroach Clusters under the pretence of offering peanuts - but still, no grinning, red-haired, identical twins were bouncing off the walls. The now small sober side of Lee supposed he ought to have been worried, but the more dominant drunk portion stupidly assured him that they weren't dead, at least.

Forty-five minutes and too many shots of Firewhiskey than anyone could count later, Lee was more than properly intoxicated and tripping over his own and Alicia's feet as Alicia clung, giggling, to his bicep. The twins had still not been seen nor heard from, and still no one had voiced worries about them. It hadn't even been sixty minutes; Fred and George were notorious for disappearing for hours on end, and then materializing out of nowhere the next morning at breakfast, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (sometimes literally).

It was another two and-a-half hours that finally brought the roof-raising Gryffindors around to noticing the absent presence of their housemates. Lee's head was spinning, the common room was a blur of color and noise, and yet he was still aware of the fact that his best friends were not partying, with him or with their other (as they called them) fans. Perhaps they were avoiding him? Possible. But what had he done? Focused on Harry's Firebolt too much in his commentary? That was absurd. The entire Gryffindor house had been positively thrilled at the prospect of an international standard broomstick on their team for the Quidditch Final, Fred and George far from the bottom of the pit that rated enthusiasm.

Something wasn't adding up - then a light bulb illuminated above Lee's head. Fred and George must have -

BOOM.

The common room walls shook, hard. The younger Gryffindors looked panicked, but Lee was pleased - and not altogether surprised - to see that Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione seemed perfectly calm, although their eyes were wide. There was a stillness in the air that had flocked to the occupants' sudden freezing; all eyes were fixed on the portrait hole.

There were a few more tremendous bangs, the sound of scuffling, and the Fat Lady's painting swung forward.

Before anyone could react, two rockets shot into the common room and began to bounce off of _everything_: the ceiling, the furniture, people's foreheads. Another pair of fiery-red blurs zoomed in, hot on the rockets' tails.

Everyone ducked for fear of being toasted alive by bouncy fireworks. None of them, not even Percy (who was heavily dissheveled), knew what to do except cover their heads with their arms and wait the excitable balls of fire out.

And they did.

They did, but it didn't take long. Within a matter of a few short minutes following their unexpected arrival, the rockets began to richochet back and forth between the two blurs as the latter circled around the round outer edge of the common room, rising simultaneously. The blurs rose higher and higher, until finally, right in between the pair, the rockets exploded in a shower of red and gold sparks, which, upon Lee's closer inspection, was actually glittery dust; the tiny particle lodged themselves in everyone's clothing and hair, coated the furniture. When it finally all cleared, the common room and those it contained were covered in Gryffindor colors, and there were two identical grins floating on broomsticks, far above them all.

"That's how it's done!" Fred and George declared loudly as one, still clad in their Quidditch robes and the only normal-colored people left.

Lee started clapping and cheering, and was closey followed by the twins' teammates, and then the rest of the house. Fred and George hovered back down to the ground, beaming as they did so. After they touched down safely, they bowed, arms around the other's shoulders. They did it again. And again. Just before the fourth time, they looked at each other, grinned, and turned around. Their backs to Lee, they bent over once more - this time taking their pants with them.

The already-there laughter tripled, while Lee gained a red face from his attempts to hold it in.

Fred and George turned back to Lee with, somehow, nothing less than smug expressions. With a mischievous smile of his own, Lee held up his fist - and his middle finger. There was a collective "Ooh!" from the other Gryffindors, and more than a fair share of "Burn!"s and "Yeah, Lee!"s from those in their year.

Amidst all of the laughter, the three friends winked at each other.

* * *

**OMG, I actually liked that one. This was set in Harry's third year, after they won the Quidditch Cup. I know it says when they come down after Sirius breaks in that everything looks normal after the party, but let's justssume guess McGonagall cleaned it up when she shut the party down. Oh, and if you don't know which Lee I'm talking about... you are not worthy of reading this story. Okay, I'm kidding. Sort of. Kind of. Not really. Or am I?**

**Oh, yeah, and sorry if this one's more messed up grammar- and spelling-wise, but I couldn't type it up on Word first. My sister is going college application essay crazy - I've probably only had a grand total of, like, three hours with the laptop (the _good _computer) this entire week.**

**Review and you get a virtual cookie, but whatever.**

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
Long _name_, long story.**


	14. Drops of Jupiter

**Phew. This one is, like, fifteen pages long in a notebook, and it took me forever to perfect it. Ah, whatever. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

***~ The Unofficial and Unheard Soundtrack ~***

***~ Drops of Jupiter ~ Train ~***

**  
**His feet seemed to be relying on gravity to move; each time he lifted one up to inch down another step, it seemed to crash right back down again, only this time in a spot lower than the one previously. It was a surprisingly good system – until he reached the bottom of the flight of stairs and had to actually use his muscles.

Harry groaned inwardly as he shuffled toward the grand doors. On the other side were tens of hundreds of people waiting to congratulate and thank him even more; he didn't think he could take anymore claps on the back without the large slash across It screaming in protest, or be pulled into anymore stranger-given hugs without the scar-bruise combo over his heart burning like Fiendfyre. Apart from all of that, he was still grief-stricken, very, very sore, and exhausted, even after his first naturally dreamless sleep in years.

Still, if things went the way he hoped, his not-so-long misery would be worth it. Inhaling a deep breath of fresh morning air that was lazily floating through the open front doors, he entered.

His arrival must have been highly anticipated: Every eye in the Great Hall was fixed on the threshold, where he stood. There was a frozen second of silence reminiscent of the one the day before, and then the occupants of all the tables stood together and began to applaud him. Harry didn't move, but his eyes raked over them all, his brain being attacked the realization that he could never have seen so many smiling faces again. Just when he thought he could move without someone clapping in his ear, he saw Seamus raise himself slightly from his spot at the Hufflepuff table, and before Harry could wonder why his friend wasn't at his house table, Seamus bellowed, "Speech!"

The cheering started again, and Harry took another tired look around before he raised a hand to shoulder height and the occupants of the Great Hall fell respectfully silent.

"I hate you, Seamus," he called out jokingly; Seamus winked at him while most people laughed. Harry took a moment to think before he went on, "I could give every last person in this room about a hundred reasons why they deserve to hear something special from me" – the crowd inflated hopefully – "but for every one I can think of a thousand more why not." They deflated just as fast. "I've been through some of the hardest things I could ever have dreamed of in these past few months – we all have," said Harry. "We've had some tough times, we've learned some tough truths."

He lowered his gaze, swallowed, and blinked hard.

"I think…" He moistened his lips. "I think, though, honestly, it would be better if everyone heard one more tough truth, this time about me."

The tension re-mounted. Harry paused, searching for the words.

"To all of you, I'm nothing less than a god. I'm invincible, immortal, I never make any mistakes. I can do anything if I can defeat the Darkest wizard of all time. I've always done the right thing, I've never broken down. I never complained, because it was my duty to the wizarding world."

He let out a short, bitter laugh, earning him some startled looks.

"The only part of all that that's even _remotely _true is that I've never broken down, and that was because something or someone else needed to be taken care of. The rest of that is a complete _lie_. There isn't any possible way I'm invincible – I can't count the number of times I've nearly died. I make tons of mistakes."

He let out another laugh, but with less power behind it.

"My mistakes have gotten people killed, or mauled, or tortured! I can't do anything – I could barely walk into that forest last night. And never done the wrong thing – ha! I've done the wrong thing dozens of times! I'm as human as anyone in this room. I have all the same flaws – more, probably!"

His voice had increased and he was breathing heavily. He lowered it, calming himself.

"When you look at me," said Harry, "you see a hero, someone who can only do good. But when I look in the mirror, I see a seventeen year-old that never had a childhood, or a real teenage life. I see scars and bruises everywhere, I see forced reminders. Where you see the famous Harry Potter, I see a lonely kid-made-adult with nothing left for him, no real home to relax in, and no parents to tell him how proud they are of him."

The Great Hall was trapped in a dead silence. Everyone stared at Harry in something like horror, and Harry glared back at them angrily for a minute or two before turning on his heel and walking back out the door. His plan had been blown, and his appetite was gone.

He walked out the front doors and out into the grounds. It was only partly cloudy out, and there was a would-be pleasant breeze ruffling his hair. It normally would have been soothing, but now it annoyed him. The weather was nice, but there too many people not there with him to enjoy it. Just the thought made the whole day seem darker somehow.

Harry walked around to one side of the castle and sat in the shade, leaving his back up against the wall. He closed his eyes, trying so, so hard to forget.

A few moments later, he heard as much as he sensed someone approach him. "Harry?" said a voice softly.

His eyes snapped open.

She stood above him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though she were trying to keep herself from falling apart. She was staring at him with something akin to awe; her mouth was slightly open and her eyes were larger than usual (along with red-rimmed). She looked different than she had the last time he had taken a good, long look at her, but they were small things – her cheeks looked more hollow, she had a dark purple bruise next to her left eye, and her eyes seemed significantly darker, all things Harry wasn't at all pleased with – and he couldn't help but notice that these were all small things he had been told that he had acquired after Sirius had died.

And with Ginny standing above him and that realization, Harry broke.

He didn't know how to feel anymore; he didn't _want _to feel. He didn't know what he was going to do: He had thought that he was going to die, and that would be that. Now he had to deal with all the emotions, all the devastation, destruction, and deaths, all of the pressure and congratulations – all of the _everything _that came with finishing Voldemort off once and for all. Should he be happy that Voldemort was dead, or should he be sad that so many others had died in the process? Should he regret that so many of his loved ones weren't there to celebrate with and comfort him, or should he be angry at himself for letting them die?

Harry wished, at that moment, that he was still a dead body in the heart of the Forbidden Forest, with the Resurrection Stone inches from his fingertips.

"Harry?" Ginny asked again.

That was it.

He snapped his eyes closed, bent his head forward over his knees, and screamed at the top of his lungs, his fingers pulling at his hair. It tore his throat, but he welcomed the physical pain; he preferred it over the emotional turmoil. He wanted the injuries to cover up the grief and the suffering.

Harry looked up at Ginny with his hands still on top of his head, breathing heavily. Her face was beyond surprised or startled – it was fearful. She had taken a step back, and her arms hugged her middle more tightly than before.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked, her voice strained.

Harry didn't reply.

"Harry?"

A pause.

"I don't know," said Harry. A few tears leaked out of his eyes; he couldn't bother himself with wiping them away. He took his hands out of his hair. "I don't know anything anymore."

He felt like a bottle of soda that had been shaken up and opened, the pressure spilling out over the sides. He was the sticky, sloppy mess left to be mopped up.

Ginny kneeled down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry stared hard at his feet.

"Harry, talk to me."

"What do you want me to say, Ginny?" snapped Harry angrily. He yelled out in frustration again.

Ginny didn't answer. She moved in front of Harry and grasped him firmly by the shoulders. He wouldn't meet her gaze; she forced his head up to look at her.

"Harry," she said with such a mix of emotions that he actually paid attention, "you are _not _alone."

The two of them locked eyes; Harry had never seen the _something _that was in the depths of brown there before, but it drew him to attempt to commit every different shade to memory in the space of only a few seconds.

"I know," he said finally, breaking the transfixed silence between them, "but sometimes… it feels like it."

"You'll always have me," said Ginny.

"Yeah. Yeah, I will."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, then Ginny moved to sit beside Harry. He put his arm around her, intending for it to be a gesture of comfort more than anything else, but she leaned into his embrace, wrapping her own arms around his middle.

Neither spoke another word for a long time. A calm wind made the branches of the trees in the Forbidden Forest sway, but they both made an effort to avoid looking at it.

"What… what did you do this year?"

Harry looked down at Ginny. She seemed to be wishing she hadn't asked, yet also wanting nothing more than to know every detail. He sighed.

"I don't know," he said.

"Harry, stop trying to protect me," she said, half-stern, half-exasperated. "I can take care of myself."

An image of Ginny dueling Bellatrix popped into Harry's mind, the jet of green light missing her by no more than an inch, the whoosh of speeding death that ruffled her hair as it passed…

_I know you can_, he wanted to say. _I know you can take care of yourself_. But the mere thought of what would have happened had Ginny not moved out of the way made the words die in his throat, and he did not reply right away.

"I'm more trying to protect myself," he murmured. "It… I…" He swallowed. There were no words to describe the feeling inside him.

Harry looked at Ginny. She didn't seem surprised or annoyed or anything else besides accepting. He sighed again.

"Ginny, do you know what a Horcrux is?"

And he told her. Everything. He told her about Voldemort's Horcruxes, his past, and about the prophecy. He told her about where he, Ron, and Hermione had gone, and he pulled out, with a shaking hand, his mother's letter and picture and showed them to her, gazing at them both in wonder before replacing them in his pocket. He told her about Remus' visit and his thoughts on it, about the Ministry, and about the Ron leaving, the last of which he had to physically hold her back from hunting her brother down. He told her about Godric's Hollow, about Bathilda's house, and what Voldemort made him see afterward. He told her how he stared at the Marauder's Map, the doe Patronus, and Ron's not-so-warm welcome from Hermione. He told her about Xenophelius Lovegood's house, the Hallows, Potterwatch, and had immense trouble recounting Malfoy Manor. He told her about Shell Cottage, and Gringotts, and what he'd done during the first half of the battle, and Ron and Hermione kissing, and watching Snape die, and his memories…

Harry had hardly taken a break during all of this, but now he hesitated. Ginny's eyes were shining with tears, one of the few times he had seen them so. He had seen and heard everything again, felt everything again, and if that was going to happen with the next part of his tale… And yet, even with all the doubts, he felt better. It was reminiscent of the night after the Triwizard, and the graveyard: The poison was slowly seeping out of his veins, his being. His heart felt lighter than it had in years.

Harry took a deep breath.

"It's the single hardest thing I've ever had to do," he said quietly, in a low voice, "but at the same time, it's not." Ginny looked hurt and was about to say something when he went on, in the same volume, "It was all finally going to be over. And… and I could see them."

Ginny didn't have to ask for him to know what she was wondering: _Who? _He didn't answer. Yet.

"The feeling… It was… I felt cold. Like I was already dying. I wanted it all to end, but at the same time I didn't. I still wanted to live my life. I almost didn't go just because of that."

He looked Ginny in the eyes.

"Then I thought of you, and everyone else, and it made me realize that if it defeated Riddle and gave everyone else a future, it was worth it."

He paused, wondering whether or not to say what he wanted to. He did.

"I never really thought I was going to make it. I always just looked at it like it was inevitable, like it's inevitable that we all have to die sometime."

There was a long silence, in which Harry became lost again in his jumbled thoughts.

"Harry?" prompted Ginny quietly, sounding as though she had a head cold. He jumped. It was a while before he spoke again, but he looked more attentive.

"I still don't know how I did it," said Harry at last. "My hands were shaking. It was… I see things differently now. Life is just… life is so precious, and it was all going to come to an end. My heart was beating so fast… I think it was the first time I ever really felt _scared_. And I wasn't scared of death, I was scared of dying." He looked at Ginny. "Does that make sense?"

She half-shrugged. "Not really."

Harry nodded as though it was the answer to an extremely complicated question he had been contemplating for a while. "I didn't think you would," he murmured.

Again, there was an extended period of silence. Unlike the others, however, this one was tenser, more anxious, as Ginny waited for Harry to continue.

"I stopped Neville, and told him to kill Nagini," he said, and almost winced at the look on Ginny's face. "I don't know why it was so easy. I… I tried to stay focused, telling myself that it would give you all a life. And then…"

He swallowed hard.

"I passed you," he said scratchily, barely above a whisper. "It… that was the hardest part. I wanted to be stopped, I wanted it to end differently, but you kept me going. You were why I was still fighting."

He paused a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the Snitch.

"It said, 'I open at the close': the close of my life. Do you know what was inside, Ginny?" He was still staring at it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny shake her head a fraction of an inch to each side.

"It was the Resurrection Stone," he said quietly. "I… I used it."

He covered his face with his hands drew a deep, shuddering breath; He moved his hands up so that they pressed his bangs on top of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"My… my mum told me I was brave," whispered Harry, a tear leaking out from under his closed eyelid. "My dad said they were proud of me."

He rubbed his face again.

"Remus and Sirius…" Harry rook another rasping breath as a few more tears escaped from him. "They walked with me, all the way. It almost felt like… like I was going home. I was with my family."

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the sky. The sun had now climbed far above the tallest trees of the Forbidden Forest.

"Now I've lost them all again."

Ginny had hardly spoken during all of this, but now she stretched out her hand to rest it on Harry's shoulder. He shook his head slowly, taking a deep breath.

"Ginny," he said suddenly, much louder than he had been a little while before, "do you want to know the last thing I thought of before the Killing Curse hit me?"

She nodded slightly. He looked her in the eyes.

As an answer, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. It was the best he'd felt in a long time; he wished he could stay there forever, kissing Ginny, driving all of the death and pain out of his mind, but Ginny broke away from him and tackled him in just a hug, burying her face into his shoulder. He could feel his shirt becoming slightly damp and realized with a jolt that Ginny was sobbing – _sobbing? Ginny? _– her heart out. He had just wrapped his arms around her when she lifted her head and gave him another quick kiss.

They stayed that way for a while, wrapped up in each other. Slowly, they shifted from their kneeling position and leaned back against the wall, but they didn't let go.

"And… and what happened next?" asked Ginny tentatively.

Harry took another deep breath and told her all about Dumbledore and what he had said.

"You know the rest," he finished with a sigh.

Ginny looked at him, and he looked back at her, watching her eyes search his face.

"You still haven't answered one question, Harry," she said softly after a while.

"I haven't?" asked Harry, confused, but there was an odd, sort of teasing note in her tone.

She nodded. "You didn't happen to meet any Veela, did you?"

He laughed weakly. "No, no Veela. You didn't happen to meet any scar-less blokes, did you?"

She shook her head; he could see that she was struggling to contain her happiness. "Nope," she breathed.

He grinned. "Good."

Their lips connected again, and the two didn't break fully apart until the sun was nearly right in the middle of the infinite blue that was the sky. They didn't care. They were free.

* * *

**Wow. I know, I should have gotten that done SOOOO much sooner, but it was Christmas break, and I have other stories I need to work on – If you like time-travel, check out Simply Complicated, and if you have, you rock – and then school started again – okay, it's still the first week, but whatever – and I haven't gotten a chance to type it up. It's here now, though! Hope you liked it!**


	15. Just a Note

**UGH!**

**I hate myself. **

**Yeah, you see, the thing is… I'm abandoning this story. **

**I know, I know, I know. If you know me and a bunch of my other writing, you know I do that a lot. But I'm sorry.**

**I have a lot going on right now. School is starting to pick up HUGELY, officially recovering from winter break. I have another story – Simply Complicated, check it out (Advertising much?) – whose chapter is now three weeks late, because my computer got a virus and decided to crash on me for that whole time. I just recently had family visit the last two weekends, so my room was turned into the guest room, and I had to use the sofa sleeper. I was home sick the last two days. I've got TONS of other ideas buzzing around in my head that I need to get down on paper.**

**So, yeah. That's that. I may or may not return to this, when I have some free time, but it's probably a no-go. It was a good ride.**

**~ XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT  
=P =) 8D 8P**


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